Chapter 3
“Your drink, sir. Can I get you anything else, Big Daddy?” The Indonesian girl batted her big brown eyes at him as she set the Bacharach crystal with two fingers of very expensive scotch on a new coaster.
“No thank you, child.” He glanced across the table at his old friend who used to be called Captain Johannes Desmond. With his new face and ID, he’d chosen to now be known as Michael Kearney, or Rooster. “Do you want another?”
He nodded. “Sure, but I want her lips around my cock, first. I’ve been looking at those tiny tits covered by scraps of lace and those bare ass cheeks since takeoff. I want her to suck me off.”
The girl looked to Big Daddy for permission. His single nod was all she needed.
Rooster unbuckled and unzipped his pants, pulling them off his hips. He stroked his cock a few times as the girl stared wide-eyed. As she’d been taught, she licked her lips and fell to her knees, crawling under the small table.
“Fuck. I love my new life,” Rooster said through clenched teeth a minute later.
Big Daddy sipped his thirty-five-year-old scotch and grinned.
His old friend was just one of many on the plane in his complete control.
Little did the senator three seats up being pleasured by an underage redhead know that his every facial expression was being captured digitally.
Big Daddy had never hesitated to use blackmail to get something he wanted.
He already knew what he would ask of the Japanese billionaires.
One was fondling a far too young blonde in his lap while he intently watched his brother take her twin sister from behind.
Hell, they’d been on camera all weekend at the private mansion he’d rented on a secluded island about ten miles from the one he’d just finished purchasing. Big Daddy loved St. Vincent and the Grenadines. Money could buy anything.
His pilot had been able to land his jet at the new international airport.
One hundred dollars per man allowed his visitors to skip customs and immigration and walk straight to his helicopter.
That service, and everything else during their visit, was included in the exorbitant price he charged.
For those who could afford it, the vacation was paid in advance to the Vida Alegre (Joyful Life) Travel Agency in the Grenadines.
For others, like the senator, the dollar amount was considerably less than what he charged the billionaires.
The politician’s true price would come in the form of favors yet to be granted.
Big Daddy always played the long game. That’s why he had the videos made. He didn’t use them for continual blackmail. That was far too traceable. He used them as his ace in the hole.
When the former SEAL Commanding Officer squeezed his eyes closed and grunted, Big Daddy knew he could get down to business with his friend.
Less than a minute later, the little girl stood and licked her lips again. “I’ll get your drink now, unless there’s something else you’d like first.”
Rooster finished tucking himself back in.
“I’m good, now. Just my drink.” He watched her naked ass cheeks wiggle down the aisle, the skin-tone thong nearly invisible.
“She was good. Looks like the training camp is doing their job well.” He raised his gaze to Big Daddy.
“Is the bedroom booked the whole flight?”
“Yes.” His plane had a king-size bed and shower in the back beyond the galley. Visitors could rent it for five thousand U.S. dollars for thirty minutes. His guests often used it for multiple play. Currently, there were two men and four girls occupying the room.
With a glance to his bodyguard, who doubled as gatekeeper, fifteen minutes was indicated as remaining in their hour-long rental.
Hound grinned at his large-faced watch. Another part of his job was to be sure the girls were never abused.
The man truly enjoyed his work. He was a voyeur.
He didn’t like to be touched, but he got hard as a rock watching others fuck.
While the sheets were changed and the room was cleaned, he would slip into the bathroom and handle his personal situation.
Each to their own. He’d built his reputation on young girls, one of the most taboo predilections in the world.
Over the years he had learned how to recruit new clients, weeding out anyone who might possibly be undercover wanting to shut down his operation.
He only hired fallen SEALs who had served under his command…
and gotten caught doing something wrong.
They were extremely loyal to him, but he paid them well and let them do their job.
He’d made mistakes, though. Most recently, allowing women to run certain businesses he owned.
While he’d been living in San Diego, he’d permitted Ms. Nami to take over his sex club concentrating on military, police, and local officials, so he could focus on his highly lucrative Doll House in Los Angeles.
It always surprised him how much money famous people would pay to hide their twisted sexual preferences.
But both businesses had been raided by the Homeland Security Investigations for Human Trafficking Division. Big Daddy had been furious when he discovered that men in his own command had been found and arrested.
He’d been tempted to anonymously report his same venture in Norfolk, Virginia, just to be rid of it and the madam who ran the place for him. But it hadn’t taken Homeland long to discover that East Coast enterprise and shut it down.
He mentally shrugged. That business had gotten him started fifteen years ago and had brought him millions of dollars in income. More money than he’d ever seen in his life. It had taught him invaluable lessons and showed him where the real money was hidden.
During his coast-to-coast move, he’d decided there wasn’t enough money in the illicit sex trafficking to the military and police.
Movie stars and executives, billionaire investors, they were a different situation.
Rooster was already overseeing the construction of a new Doll House in L.A.
In the meantime, his guests had been invited to visit his Washington D.C. location.
Thankfully, none of the men who worked for his dark side businesses had talked.
Most were released quickly claiming they had no knowledge of what went on inside the clubs’ private rooms. A lie, but one which could be upheld by the cadre of lawyers he maintained.
A name change, a beard or a shave, and a new location, and his men were back to work.
Michael interrupted his wandering mind. “I’m glad you bought the island.
I always worry when you rent someone else’s mansion.
I don’t care if it’s on some tiny backward Caribbean Island or in the middle of a huge city.
There are too many people involved for my comfort.
We weren’t trained that way. Do you feel like you can trust the South American billionaire? ” Rooster asked.
“Fuck no. But I’m his chance for staying alive.
He pissed off Nicholas Maduro. The disputed president of Venezuela believes that our seller stole most of his money from the Venezuelan government during the uproar between Chavez and Maduro.
” Big Daddy sipped his scotch and enjoyed the smooth burn as it glided to his stomach.
“He’s probably right.” Rooster said nothing else until after the girl had delivered his drink and left.
“I sent him to the same plastic surgeon who did your new face. When he’s done, his own mother wouldn’t recognize him.”
His old friend chuckled. “Mine didn’t. Neither did my ex.”
What the fuck? “You went and saw them?”
Rooster grinned. “Yeah. I had to find out just how good your plastic surgeon was. The man is a fucking genius. He completely changed my face, even my eye sockets.”
“Good to know.” Big Daddy had plans for the surgeon who preferred to buy his little girls rather than play with them and leave.
To date, he’d sold the doctor four. He was smart enough to never ask about their health.
When the day came he needed to disappear, the talented plastic surgeon would be his first stop.
He’d already established a phony wife who would collect all his many insurance policies upon his faked death.
Under his new identity, he would fly all over the world finding rich pedophiles and relieving them of their money. He’d invite them to Isla de la Alegria (the Island of Joy), the fifty acres of paradise he just purchased.
“I can’t believe those idiots in SVG believed that you named the island after your dead wife, Joy.” Rooster sipped his drink.
They both chuckled. “They’re such a poor country right now, money buys almost anything we want.” Big Daddy grinned. “Did I tell you that I cut a deal with their airport security? As far as they know, we have a customs and immigration station on the island.”
Rooster burst out laughing. When he got control of himself, he turned serious. “So, why am I here and not in Los Angeles overseeing the final details on the new Doll House?”
“Can Dirk finish that project?” Big Daddy was eager to get started on the island. He wanted to open before Thanksgiving.
“Yeah.”
“Excellent. I want you to take over remodeling the mansion to fit our needs and you’ll need to construct several twenty-by-twenty buildings on the far end of the island.
Each needs to be slightly different. They will require electricity and Internet.
One door only. Concrete or tile floor, whichever is cheapest.” He could tell his friend was trying to sort out their usage.
“Okay, I give. What the hell are they for?” He was glad Rooster gave up quickly. They had a lot to go over before the plane landed at a small private airport outside of Washington D.C.
“I’ve already made deals with several Caribbean banks. SVG banking laws are very generous to anyone with accounts in them.” And those banks would pay a hefty fee for the “office” space.